Translator
by emmaisblue
Summary: Serving as a lowly guide and translator with the icily beautiful and dangerously cold-hearted model, Belarusian Natalia Arlovskaya, the lowly Lithuanian Toris Laurenaitis, strongly suspects he'll be murdered brutally if he steps out of her lines. /Belarus and Lithuania./
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

 **Another AU. Isemay helped me a** _ **lot**_ **with the character shaping and the general theme. G'head and check out a few of her stories, you won't regret it. Reviews are nice.**

* * *

"Toris, hey, Toris!" As the man being called jerked around, he caught sight of a small hand waving to him amidst a crowd much taller than the owner of the hand.

As Toris wove between people to the outstretched hand, he dragged his friend out and heaved him onto a higher surface as people swarmed and scattered, twittering like birds. The boy dusted off his jeans and smiled shakily, his light brown hair stuck up at an odd angle and his blue-green eyes still darting around nervously, like someone might elbow him again.

"Uhm, the plane'll be here soon, and we'll go around the back. I dunno why Eduard sent me of all people to come and tell you and brave the paparazzi, though." He smiled nervously, and Toris, his green eyes crinkling in affection, helped his friend down.

"Thank you, Raivis. I know that this won't be easy for all of us, and why they had to choose our country of all of them to do their photo shoots is beyond my-" Toris was cut off mid-sentence as someone cried about her arrival, alerting the other reporters and photographers, who all converged to one spot.

"She's here? Here _now?"_ His voice was drowned out and people screeched and cameras clicked and people swooped towards a small tunnel where a few people had just emerged. One, the one he'd been supposed to escort, was turning her head this way and that above the sea of flashing cameras, looking for him, her designated translator, who should have been at her side by now. Not having enough time to even give his friend a proper goodbye, he fought his way through the ocean of jabbing elbows and bodies fighting for space, finally emerging beside the woman, her icy beauty and icier personality hitting him instantly.

"You're late," she snapped, her voice thick with a Belarusian accent, her long, platinum blonde hair sweeping across her shoulders as she tossed her proud head back and removed her sunglasses, tucking them safely in a pocket of her trenchcoat. Her eyes were as cold and distant as a sky before winter. Natalia Arlovskaya, the supermodel who held the power to awaken the green monster in every female with one bat of her perfect lashes.

Toris was smitten instantly. He muttered an apology, but she held up her hand to stop him. "Yes, yes, that's enough. Quit your yapping, you do not need to apologize when I know you had to through _them_." She cast a dirty look at the flashing cameras and microphone being thrust in her direction.

Toris clamped his mouth shut, unsure whether she was being rude or forgiving. Natalia unbuttoned her trencoat, enough for him to barely glimpse the three-thousand-euro top that was lucky enough to grace her perfect chest. She pursed her lips at the crowd of media surrounding her, and snapped her fingers for Eduard, who would be her manager for the month or two she'd be touring and doing photoshoots and interviews in Lithuania. Eduard scurried forward. "Y-yes, Miss Natalia?"

She allowed him one single moment of her attention, before tossing him her coat and fluffing her hair as she prepared to brave the media tide. She cleared her throat airily and turned to Toris. He scrambled to her side, and she held out her elbow for him, and he took it as he led them through the crowd. He cast a glance at her face just once, then forced his eyes back down again. He was taller than she was, barely, but he was hunched over. Sure he knew she'd be beautiful, but there was something different held in her blue eyes. Proud and haughty but filled with cold fire. They could look through the most impenetrable of people and scorch the skin with a glance. It was what differed her from other famous models, the sweet Belgian Emma, the forceful Hungarian Elizabeta, mysterious Vietnamese Lien, and her bubbly sister Mei. That's what all the magazines said, anyway.

Toris tried to pull himself together as his hands kept slipping from her elbow. God, it probably looked like he was the damsel in distress and she the supposedly street-wise, experienced translator. He straightened immediately, and kept only one hand on her elbow as he led her to her car. He opened the door of the sleek black limousine that awaited her, and was about to close the door when her long, slim fingers stopped him. "Come here," she said stiffly, and he did, making sure he was still outside the limousine.

"Yes, Miss Natalia?"

"The driver is Lithuanian, idiot. You accompany everywhere, no? Now get in. Jesus, _now,_ Translator."

Toris stepped into the spacious vehicle immediately, cursing his luck to be at the end of this celebrity's wrath, and, beautiful how she may be, she was keeping him as mentally and emotionally far as she could. "My name is Toris, Miss."

She groaned. "Don't call me _Miss._ It is Natalia. Now, tell him where the hotel is. This damned country's language…"

As Toris muttered instructions to the hotel, he closed his eyes for a minute and stored his beauty behind his eyes. He would focus on her loveliness, and do his best to try not to get killed.

* * *

Reviews are appreciated, as are favorites and follows. Let me know what to do and what not to do because my self-esteem is at your mercy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Only a couple days into this 'translator' job, and he was already beginning to feel the scorch marks Natalia was leaving on him. Soon enough, he'd be nothing but a little lump of barbecued Lithuanian, and he'd stumble around for the rest of his life on little ash legs, looking at the world through little ash eyes.

Her gaze was indestructible, forbidding. If they expected him to stay with here the rest of the sixty-two days (he was counting) she would be here, her eyes would cut a gash in the earth that would drag him down to the depths of hell, or he could stay on the surface and be burned slowly alive there.

He wasn't really sure what he'd prefer. Natalia was extraordinarily beautiful. He'd seen her in several flattering outfits, a couple swimsuits, and beautiful glimmering dresses when she did interviews. Despite what he'd been taking in, her television personality was less unapproachable than what he'd been putting up with. Still introverted, her guard was let down just a little as she humored the crowd.

He'd go with her into television studios and translate her witty remarks to the audience and the host, who'd laugh and laugh and Toris would smile nervously. Once, he glanced over at Natalia, and her face was soft, angelic, and the light was hitting it so all her perfect porcelain skin gave off a continuous gentle glow. Her expression was reserved, quiet, but when she put up her television persona, it was a cleverly spun mask of polite amusement, one the audience could not see through.

Toris didn't either, until after the first interview was over. When they left the studio, her eyes were tired, her shoulders drifted down a centimeter or two, her nose twitched almost imperceptibly, but he saw enough. Their eyes met, and she knew he saw her in one moment of relative weakness, and her guard snapped up again.

Toris was a few steps behind her, still silently surprised there was still skin sensitive to the touch under all her layers of armor. He felt like he was intruding on something discreet, dishonest. But it's not like he could just ask her about her lapse in strength.

He hurried after her, doing his best not to meet her eyes. She didn't give him any reason to, she cut off any opportunity to bring up conversation.

As he opened the door for her, as he took her fluffy white scarf, exposing her twirly blue dress, he tore his eyes away from the swirling fabric and met her eyes. "Uhm, Miss Natalia?"

She froze, midway to sitting down. Brows furrowed, she looked straight at him, and he had to fight to keep his knees from trembling. "Yes?"

Staring at her face was like staring into a spotlight, but he tried to keep his eyes straight. "You seem… stressed. Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, and that was the end of their conversation.

But it was a start.

It turned into a sort of game for Toris, whenever he really could, he'd try to get her to talk. She wasn't a conversationalist, and it baffled her that someone was actually, sincerely trying to get to know her. He was always trying to get her to actually think about their conversation. Trying to get her to open up, just a little bit. Toris was fighting hard to get past the walls of this ice queen, always wanting to know just a little something more about her.

He had made up his mind; if was going to be constantly enduring her arctic gazes and scorching eyes, he was at least going to lower the temperature extremes. If he were lucky and if she had a sudden inexplicable change of heart, he might get them to a nice warm. Every day, as he held her bag and translated her sentences to the crowds and the interviewers and led her to restaurants Eduard scheduled. He's watched her be flirted with, translated it to her with cheeks as hot as an oven, he's translated her scathing responses.

Toris was taking his little game of get-to-know to new heights, but he still didn't know her favorite color. Natalia was starting to frown whenever he came close with his eyes bright at the thought of another question, and she would shut down their talks as quickly as she could.

She didn't know what to think of this strange new translator, who was unlike all the ones she had before. He was trying to engage her, to know her, and no one had done that in so long, not when she put up her guards and armed herself and never let anyone get close, lest she shoot a flaming arrow from her walls and cut their strides at the knee.

But although he wasn't exactly the most extroverted, and his accent was weird, and his hair was messy and long, he was wriggling his way into her attention. Why, though? There was nothing that could have possibly pushed him to do it, really, nothing.

And Natalia was at a loss at what to do about it.

Once, when they had just finished a photo shoot and Natalia was tired and sore from posing and stretching and cold, he gave her his own jacket, which had been warmed by his body heat. It wasn't as comfy as her own, nor as soft, nor as attractive, but the warmth was welcome on her shoulders where the wind had more than stolen away the heat.

He had pointed to a place far off in the distance, where the sun was reflecting over water. She could just glimpse it between stretches of trees and brush, but the pasty golden glow the sun gave off was spreading through the waves, turning it to light honey.

"Soon, probably, Miss -er, sorry- Natalia, we'll do a photoshoot at the ocean. Lithuania has some of the finest beaches in the world, I like to think." his country's pride shone through his voice. His chest lifted a little. Patriot. "There is much amber there, too, I'll give one to you to take away, when you leave Lithuania. It's a great deal here, we take a lot of pride in it. They say amber has magic healing powers, you know."

She pursed her lips, puzzled. That was thoughtful, which was weird. She knew about the amber shores, and the unique color and shine that came with it, but certainly she would be given beautiful jewelry made from the same material when they went down to the beach. Because the photoshoot was Lithuanian-based, it only made sense for her to take pictures decorated in the honey-gold stuff, but here he was, offering to give her one straight from the beach.

She handed him back his jacket. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Wow, what was that? Leave feedback for me, this is the first time I've tried to do a European-based fanfiction. I'm still not sure if it's _good,_ but I like it. Review, favorite, follow, you get the idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

As the days passed, Toris grew steadily closer, in his mind, to Natalia. He'd finally figured out her favorite color, which was blue. Their conversation had almost resulted in the flicker of a genuine smile, after a while.

He was talking about how pretty the sky was when it was nearly night, and she had actually replied graciously to him, as the clouds started to clear and stars appeared against a beautiful darkish blue backdrop. "Yes. Beautiful. That's my favorite color, you know."

Toris' eyebrows crept upwards. She was willingly responding, without gentle prompting, and with loosely tethered emotion in her voice. He forced himself to respond steadily, his face neutral. "Why?"

Natalia paused, unsure of whether to respond truthfully, or if she should really respond at all. There was nothing that she needed to justify to the translator- Toris. If he was suing her first name, there really wasn't a reason not to use his. She owed nothing to him, though, not a thing. He was being _paid_ to manage interviews and translate witty comments. He was being paid to be polite and charming and respectful.

But not kind to her, no.

"Natalia?" he prompted gently, and tugged her back to Earth with a single word. Her shoulders snapped into a defensive position, cutting off any means of conversation. Toris backed up several steps, his outstretched hand retreating into the safe corner between his elbow and his hip.

"No, no, it's alright." Natalia flapped a dismissive arm at Toris, whose shoulders relaxed immediately. "It's, well, it's a bit of a long story." she tried to have the sentence sound forbidding, but he took it as an opening.

"It'd be a nice change from talking as a job," he smiled, and sat down, cross-legged, on a bench next to her as they both talked quietly in her dressing room after a photoshoot.

She pursed her lips and glanced at Toris, whose back was straight at attention, his eyes wide and bright. Natalia looked deep into them for some hint of insincerity, brow furrowed, then instantly regretted it when she realized there was none. He had big puppy eyes, which had weird little flecks of a color she couldn't quite place.

Natalia's resolve crumbled a little. "Alright."

"When I was very small, I lived with my older brother and sister. I was the youngest, but they never left me out, never. I was very close to them, although looking back on it, we were all very strange. Perhaps it was why we got along so well. I didn't like any boys at the time but my brother, but I was very protective of both of my siblings, although I think they both didn't view me as a high priority.

Well, I remember, at one point in the winter, I was very cold, and the weather had been awful that year. It was snowy almost the whole time, and very cloudy. But I remember one night, I looked out my window and saw a small part of the sky had cleared. There were so many starts in that tiny space, but the real beauty was the backdrop. The sky was not black, and not bright blue, either. Instead, it was a sort of mix of them. Soft, like velvet. I… ah… I've tried to find the precise color, but I cannot. Still, I wore dark blue for a very long time after that. "

Natalia found herself smiling a little, but quickly pursed her lips to hide any sort of emotion. What was she thinking, anyway? It wasn't even that great of a story.

Toris was smiling like an idiot, but didn't bother to hide it, like she had. He stood up, then dusted off his pants, then held out his arm to her. "Thank you for the story, Natalia. I promise that before we leave, I _will_ get you that blue."

Natalia searched his eyes for the second time in three minutes. She wanted to find a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he looked completely certain he would find what she thought was the most evasive color in the world.

"Hmm," she said derisively, and turned away.

* * *

PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW. I need 'em.


End file.
